Chapter 9 - He Chose His Mother Over an Empire
The trial began six months later.
By then, the world looked different.
Costa Holdings had been divided.
Legitimate businesses were placed under independent management.
Illegal assets were seized.
Several former associates faced prosecution.
Roman’s cooperation agreement spared him from the most serious racketeering charges but did not erase consequences.
He pleaded guilty to two financial offenses connected to businesses he had controlled.
His attorneys expected probation or a short custodial sentence because of cooperation.
Roman accepted that.
Rebecca struggled more.
“You’re too calm.”
They sat inside his kitchen the night before sentencing.
“I’m not calm.”
“You look calm.”
“I have excellent tailoring.”
“You’re wearing sweatpants.”
He looked down.
“Then I have no defense.”
Rebecca laughed despite herself.
Clara sat nearby pretending not to listen.
Roman had testified for nine days.
Against Adrian.
Against Daniel.
Against former associates.
He described the family organization honestly.
Not dramatically.
His crimes too.
The courtroom learned things Rebecca had never wanted to know.
Men threatened.
Businesses pressured.
Debts collected through fear.
Roman had never trafficked narcotics.
Never targeted children.
Never ordered murder.
But he had participated in an organization that used violence.
He did not excuse it.
Rebecca loved him.
She also refused to pretend loving him made the past harmless.
That mattered to Roman.
One night after testimony, he asked, “Do you think less of me?”
Rebecca answered, “Sometimes.”
He had looked surprised.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not lying.”
Love, Rebecca was learning, was not declaring someone innocent.
Sometimes it was standing beside a person while they finally took responsibility for being guilty.
Adrian’s trial exposed everything.
Antonio’s murder.
Marianne’s death.
Dr. Bell.
The drugging of Clara.
Bribed police.
Port trafficking.
The jury convicted him on every major count.
Daniel accepted a plea agreement during the third week and testified against his father.
Adrian did not look at him as he spoke.
The feared Costa patriarch received life without realistic possibility of release.
Clara attended sentencing.
Rebecca guided her into the courtroom.
When Adrian was given an opportunity to speak, he turned toward Clara.
“I did what was necessary.”
Clara’s face did not move.
“No.”
Her voice carried through the silent room.
“You did what was convenient.”
That was all.
She never spoke to him again.
Roman’s sentencing came six weeks later.
The judge acknowledged extensive cooperation.
Acknowledged he dismantled criminal operations voluntarily.
Acknowledged funds surrendered.
Then imposed fourteen months in federal custody.
Rebecca felt the number like a physical blow.
Roman simply nodded.
Fourteen months.
Not life.
Not years.
Still fourteen months away.
Clara squeezed Rebecca’s hand.
Roman had thirty days before surrender.
He spent them doing ordinary things.
Breakfast with Clara.
Meetings with attorneys.
Finalizing corporate restructuring.
Walking with Rebecca.
One afternoon he repaired a loose cabinet hinge badly.
Rebecca stared.
“You could hire somebody.”
“I’m learning normal skills.”
“You made it worse.”
“I’m learning slowly.”
Clara called from the living room.
“What broke?”
“Roman.”
“Again?”
They laughed.
But every laugh carried a clock beneath it.
Ten days before surrender, Roman asked Rebecca to come to the lake house.
Not the estate.
He had sold that.
Too many ghosts.
The lake house was smaller.
Quiet.
No staff except a caretaker.
Roman made dinner.
Pasta.
Overcooked.
Rebecca ate it anyway.
Afterward they sat near the fireplace.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” he said.
Rebecca stared.
“That may be the stupidest thing you’ve said.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. That’s what makes it stupid.”
“Fourteen months is a long time.”
“You spent seventeen years trapped by family crimes. I think I can survive fourteen months of phone calls.”
“You could go back to school.”
“I am.”
He blinked.
“What?”
Rebecca had applied to finish the occupational therapy degree she abandoned years earlier.
Clara inspired it.
So had Evelyn.
“I start in January.”
Roman smiled.
Real pride.
“That’s incredible.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted one secret in this family that didn’t involve murder.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“What else?”
“What?”
“You have that face.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“I’m planning to open a community program after graduation.”
“For blind adults?”
“And people adjusting to vision loss.”
Roman looked toward the fire.
“My mother will interfere.”
“Your mother has already joined the advisory board.”
“Of course.”
Rebecca smiled.
“She named it.”
“That concerns me.”
“Evelyn House.”
Roman’s expression softened.
“That’s good.”
“Clara wanted Evelyn and Clara House.”
“No.”
“I said the same thing.”
Silence settled.
Roman took her hand.
“I love you.”
The words were quiet.
No performance.
Rebecca’s chest tightened.
He had never said them.
Neither had she.
“I know.”
Roman frowned.
“That is a terrible response.”
She laughed.
Then moved closer.
“I love you too.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
As though relief hurt.
Rebecca touched his face.
“But.”
His eyes opened.
“Of course there’s a but.”
“I won’t build my entire life around waiting for you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I’ll go to school.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll work.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll help Clara.”
“She will exploit you.”
“I know.”
“And when I come home?”
Rebecca smiled.
“Then you figure out where you fit.”
Roman stared.
Most women in his past probably promised to become part of his world.
Rebecca was telling him he would need to enter hers.
He kissed her.
“I like that.”
The morning Roman surrendered, Clara insisted on going.
Federal reporters waited outside.
Roman stepped from the vehicle.
Cameras exploded in light.
Rebecca’s hand felt empty.
He turned.
Walked back.
Kissed Clara’s forehead.
Then Rebecca.
“Fourteen months.”
“Less with good behavior.”
“You planning to behave?”
“For once.”
She smiled through tears.
“Try it.”
Then he went inside.
Life did not stop.
Rebecca had feared it might.
She started school.
Worked part-time at a rehabilitation center.
Helped Clara learn to use a new Braille display.
Visited Roman whenever permitted.
They argued through glass once because he accused her of driving too late at night.
She hung up.
He apologized in writing.
Clara framed the apology.
“You’re evil,” Rebecca said.
“I am elderly. It’s different.”
Roman was released after eleven months.
Good behavior.
Cooperation.
Rebecca knew the date.
She did not tell Clara the exact time because she wanted to meet him alone.
She waited outside beneath a gray Chicago sky.
The doors opened.
Roman stepped out carrying one duffel bag.
No suit.
No guards.
Dark sweater.
Short hair slightly longer than before.
He stopped when he saw her.
Rebecca forgot every speech she had planned.
He crossed the distance.
She ran the final few steps.
Roman caught her.
Held her.
For a long time neither spoke.
Then he whispered against her hair, “You cut it.”
Rebecca touched her shoulder-length hair.
“That is your first comment?”
“I had eleven months to imagine it longer.”
She laughed into his chest.
“Clara is waiting.”
“Is she okay?”
“Better than you.”
“Good.”
He pulled back.
Looked at Rebecca as though verifying she was real.
“What now?”
That was the question.
No empire.
No soldiers.
No mafia throne.
Roman still had significant legal wealth through untouched investments.
But the Costa organization was finished.
Rebecca smiled.
“Now you get a job.”
He stared.
Then laughed.
That evening Clara hosted dinner at the new house Roman had purchased before surrender.
Smaller than the estate.
Still ridiculously large by Rebecca’s standards.
Margaret came.
Marcus.
Ben.
Helen Walsh.
Rebecca’s former occupational therapy supervisor.
People who belonged to a life formed from the wreckage.
Clara raised a glass.
“To being underestimated.”
Everyone drank.
Roman looked at Rebecca.
Later, after everyone left, he stood outside with his mother.
Clara held his arm.
“Your father would be proud.”
Roman looked toward the dark garden.
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
“He wanted me away from this life.”
“You got there eventually.”
“After making every possible mistake.”
Clara smiled.
“You are a Costa.”
He laughed.
Then her expression softened.
“Roman.”
“Yes?”
“I am going to forget more things.”
His face tightened.
“Mother—”
“No.”
She squeezed his arm.
“Listen.”
He did.
“My medication caused some of it. Not all.”
“I know.”
“There may come a day I do not know what day it is.”
He looked away.
“Or where I am.”
“Stop.”
“Or maybe who you are.”
His jaw tightened.
“I said stop.”
Clara touched his face.
“You cannot threaten time.”
Roman closed his eyes.
“You cannot buy memory.”
Her thumb moved across his cheek.
“But you can give me good things to forget.”
He opened his eyes.
Clara smiled.
“So stop watching me die and help me live.”
Rebecca stood inside the doorway.
Listening.
Roman looked toward her.
Then back at Clara.
“Okay.”
Clara nodded.
“Good.”
She turned toward the house.
“And marry that girl before she realizes she can do better.”
May you like
“Mother.”
Rebecca burst out laughing.
